


Under Stars

by Autobratty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Chirolinguistics, Fluff, M/M, Speaking in hand, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 08:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autobratty/pseuds/Autobratty
Summary: Drift teaches Rodimus a little hand.





	Under Stars

**Author's Note:**

> UM I WAS GOING BACK THROUGH MY DRAFTS AND SAW THAT THIS IS ACTUALLY MY FIRST FINISHED TF FANFIC, I WROTE AND COMPLETED IT IN DECEMBER OF 2014 AND I'M ABSOLUTELY SCREAMING
> 
> I know this idea has been written to death but *shrug emoji* I added in a little bit and made a few corrections but still. H

When you have a best friend, you want to share the world with them. You want to teach them to do everything you can do, to know everything that you know. And that was exactly the case with Drift and Rodimus.

Drift had given his captain lessons in swordplay - the red mech had been horrible at it, mostly because of his low patience threshold, but they both enjoyed the sessions nonetheless. In return, Rodimus taught his third-in-command how to improve his skills in drawing. Drift taught him of his religion; Rodimus listened with interest: he was religious too, having grown up in the ruins of Nyon's Acroplex - although he didn’t believe the same. In his free time, the captain would often make little presents for Drift. This time, the swordsmech’s lesson idea was to teach Rodimus-

“Chiroling-what?”

Drift chuckled, sitting down next to Rodimus on the window-seat in the captain’s office. “Chirolinguistics,” he repeated, the stars outside twinkling in his cerulean optics. “Some Cybertronians prefer to communicate non-verbally, through sensation rather than speech. Here, let me show you.” 

He reached out, gently grasping his captain’s wrists and pulling them up into clear view, Rodimus raising an optic brow and staring down at the dark digits that carefully intertwined with his. “It’s a more intimate form of communication, and it’s been used throughout the galaxy for eons. Many Cybertronians forged during and before the Golden Age knew how to speak ‘hand’, but after the rise of Functionism, it became more an elite-exclusive practice. Once the war started and intimacy was discarded for lethal weaponry, well...there wasn’t really much of a reason to keep using it on Cybertron, although it is still spoken by some organic races,” Drift explained, looking up at Rodimus, who immediately opened his mouth questioningly.

Drift was already a step ahead of him, jumping in right where he left off. “I learned how to speak it from Wi-” He paused, voice modulator faltering. The corners of Rodimus’ mouth turned downwards slightly, a stitch in his brow. The white mech swallowed and looked away, out the window. The starlight gleamed silver on his white armor. “I learned it in New Crystal City.” 

He wasn’t always the most attentive mech, but Rodimus easily picked up the trace of pain on Drift’s faceplates. He gave his third-in-command’s hands a gentle squeeze, a soft push to continue. With a staticky cough, Drift continued, tearing his gaze away from the window, redirecting his optics to the hands in front of him. “They aimed to preserve Cybertronian culture, so naturally, that included the preservation of all its languages.” He looked up at Rodimus with a small shrug. “It’s not the most useful language to learn, but it’s a wonderful experience to speak it. Er, feel it." Drift cracked a smile. "How "fluent" you are depends on the speed of your signing.”

Drift dropped his gaze down again, and moved his fingers slightly. “Keep your hands still...okay. Do you see how my fingers are positioned?”

Rodimus squinted. “Uh, yeah.”

“Close your optics. Remember how that feels.” Rodimus sighed out through his vents and obeyed. This was going to take...ugh. _Patience._

Then again, that was a requirement of nearly everything Drift taught him.

“This is letter A.” He waited for a moment, hoping that Rodimus had at least somewhat memorized the sensation - of course, chirolinguistics wasn’t an easy language to learn; by no means did Drift expect him to get it right off the bat. He moved his fingers to a new position and intoned, “This is letter B.”

Rodimus went rigid for a moment, and popped an optic open. “Wait, wait, wait. Are you...this kyro-ling-whassits stuff, this is just a...a hand alphabet?”

Drift looked up at him and laughed. “Chirolinguistics,” he gently corrected, grinning. “And yes, basically.”

The flame-colored mech looked incredulous. “Wow. It looked so...it looks so complicated.”

“Well, it kind of is. You have to memorize specific hand motions to speak it, and recall specific sensations to read it-”

“Still! It’s just...just alphabet memorization! If I can remember this stuff, I’ll have it in no time!” Rodimus exclaimed with a relieved exhale. Thank Primus, this lesson wouldn’t completely test his patience to the end of its cords.

Drift just shook his head and chuckled to himself. “Okay, okay. You’re right.” No point in arguing - and besides, he was basically right. He just had a...somewhat skewed idea of the difference between memorizing letters or sounds, and memorizing positions and sensations. “Just close your eyes again.”

He moved his hands again, two of his fingertips brushing against Rodimus’ wrists. He giggled like a sparkling. “Hey, that tickles!” Drift rolled his optics good-naturedly. “This is C, you big dummy. And this one is D.” He moved his fingers languidly between Rodimus’ till their fingertips were all that was touching. “You think you can remember those four?”

Rodimus nodded. Drift smirked a little. “Okay, then, Captain. Show me.”

Blue optics popped open, first looking at their hands, then to Drift, then back to the hands again. “Uh.” Rodimus slipped his fingers into A, albeit a bit clumsily, but Drift was surprised. He wasn’t bad for a first-timer.

“Good! Now show me B.” Rodimus hesitated, and chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. He slowly moved his gold-painted fingers so that the tips of his digits rested inside the grooves between Drift’s. “Mm, not quite. More like this,” the swordsmech corrected, moving his own hands so that his fingertips were atop Rodimus’ knuckles. “Oh.”

Drift smiled encouragingly. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great. What about C?”

Confidence revived by the praise, Rodimus adjusted his hands so that his middle and index fingers swept across Drift’s wrists, and his smile widened. “Perfect. Now, show me D.”

Rodimus let go and pulled back, striking a sensual pose. “Only if you insist,” he intoned, optics narrowed with that winning smirk of his plastered across his faceplates. Drift snorted, and then burst out laughing, covering his face with his hands. “Primus, Roddy!” 

The captain leaned his back against the wall and closed his optics, laughing just as hard. Once they’d settled down, Drift sighed and shook his head, grinning. “What am I going to do with you?” 

That was an easy answer. Rodimus swiveled around, laying back to rest his head in the white mech’s lap. He shuttered his optics again, still smiling. “Love me, feed me, never leave me.”

“Pfft.”

Drift didn’t say anything else, because both of them knew he planned on doing just that. He'd never leave Rodimus again. The knight reached up and lightly traced a digit over Rodimus’ helm, dipping into the scrapes and grooves carved out by millennia of war and hardship. The red mech cracked an optic open after a minute or so, and Drift poked him in the forehelm. “You’re a dork. You know that?”

Rodimus grinned. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m your dork.” He tapped Drift’s nose playfully. “Do you know that?”

The other mech couldn’t help but smile. He simply leaned down to rest his forehelm against that of his captain. “Yeah...I know.”


End file.
